


Neither with you nor without you

by Saenshi



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Tragedy, Kaneki Ken Is Alive, M/M, Multi, Romance, kanekicest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:59:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3113894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saenshi/pseuds/Saenshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“A flower shop called Hanakotoba. You---” he started, taking in deep breaths and placing a hand over his beating heart, “The you with black hair works there. He has a black eye like the one you received from the fight yesterday, and he looks exactly like you, Kaneki."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Florist

_“Flower man, flower man!”_

_“Yes, mademoiselle?”_

_“Are you going to get me some flowers today?”_

_“If the little lady asks me to, then how could I refuse?”_

_“Thank you!”_

 

Kaneki Ken would not consider himself to be the protagonist of a novel; rather, he would consider himself a background character, especially in the novel of his life. Molded by the world around him, Kaneki had no say in his shape, and he willingly became the person anyone and everyone wanted him to become.

Kaneki passed a bouquet of various flowers to the customer over the counter, ringing him up and thanking him for his service. He started towards the back of the shop, and began to work on his next bouquet. He lived in a lovely little apartment above the shop he worked at: Hanakotoba. He was nineteen years old and attended a college where he would inevitably major in literature, and, eventually, he would lead an undeniably normal life. The black-haired boy was normal. He was boring, and he would have it no other way.  

At least, that’s what he always believed.

At nineteen years old, Kaneki had lived an unordinary life, that is, until the twelfth of December.

December tenth started out as any other mundane day: Kaneki woke up at seven-thirty in the morning, took a shower, made himself breakfast (today was cereal, occasionally he’d treat himself to waffles or pancakes) and ate it while reading, dressed himself, arrived at the shop at nine. He was usually the first one there, though he enjoyed the quiet air of the antique flower shop: he was able to focus on creating bouquets in peace.

“Kaneki!” a voice called from the front of the shop, and he started towards the counter to lock eyes with a blonde boy wearing a cap.

“Hide, how are you?” Kaneki greeted his childhood friend with a wide smile.

“I’m pretty good! I’ve officially become buddies with some of the most important members of the CCG!” he laughed, “The next step is to get my own quinque and start kicking some ghoul ass!”

Kaneki chuckled with him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh yeah,” Hide said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m here to pick up some flowers for an event…”

Kaneki nodded.

“I did find it odd that there was an order under the name ‘Hide’. I’ll get the bouquets for you.”

As he strode to the back of the shop, Kaneki’s eyes suddenly watered, and the room began to meld together into a mass of greens and reds and whites and browns. He clutched the nearest table, his other hand over his eye, and hissed as a dull pain began to resonate from it.

“Kaneki? You need some help back there?”

“N-no! I’m fine!”

Within moments the pain faded away, and the boy retrieved a set of about fifteen bouquets. He returned to the wooden checkout counter and placed them down, noticing the bills on the counter, only to look up and meet Hide’s terrified eyes.

“Kaneki? What the hell happened to you?” Hide asked, jaw slightly agape and eyes wide.

“I--I got disoriented all of a sudden but that’s it…?”

“Did someone punch you in the face and _run_?” the blonde gasped, “What direction did he go? I’ll find him!”

“Slow down, Hide! What’s wrong with my face?”

“You got a black eye, dude!”

Kaneki’s mouth, now agape as well, attempted to form some words, though he ended up opening and closing his mouth a few times.

“What?”

Hide glanced down at his watch, and then glanced to Kaneki, his brows scrunched in worry.

“Ah, Kaneki, I’ve got to go, but you should really get that checked out, okay?”

“Y-yeah! I’ll see you later, Hide,” Kaneki attempted to say, though he was still in shock. He sighed.

 

It was around noon the next day, the eleventh of December, that Kaneki finally got to working with the flowers for another client. The morning had been a busy one, and he hadn’t much time to begin bouquets. While his two other coworkers were out for lunch, he promised to hold down the shop, as he needed to begin his orders. His mind wandered to the day before: his surprise when the mirror reflected a bruised and slightly swollen eye and Hide’s visit to check up on him. He marvelled at the fact that the bruise that did, indeed, envelop most of the right side of his face had stopped stinging, and the dark blue color that seemed vibrant yesterday had faded away into a less angry color today. He wondered how the bruise got there, however, and why it was fading so quickly. Kaneki credited the pack of ice he had pressed against his face for hours the night before, though his somewhat speedy recovery was a bit...unusual.

Attempting to push the freak event out of his mind, he picked a white camellia carefully by its branch, twirling it in between two fingers, humming a little tune while he rummaged through a drawer for shears. He began cutting the flower’s angular leaves when his nose suddenly stung: the pain was dull and throbbing, as if he had been punched. He dropped the shears as he clutched his nose with both hands, giving himself a shallow cut in the process.

The bell above the door rang, signaling the arrival of a customer.

“ _Crap_ ,” Kaneki mumbled as burgundy seeped through the cracks of his fingers and dyed parts of the flower a vibrant red.

The black-haired boy rushed to the front of the shop, giving the customer a quick greeting and calling out an “I’ll be right with you!”

After stuffing a wad of hastily-crumpled tissues against his nostrils, Kaneki walked towards the counter, his nose still bleeding into the paper.

“I’m, uh, really sorry about this! All my coworkers are out and my nose suddenly hurt and then it bled so….” Kaneki sighed, awkwardly trailing off.

At the lack of a reply, Kaneki looked up from underneath his lashes and muttered another apology. His grey eyes met lilac ones, and he glanced up.

The man was gorgeous. His lavender hair framed his face, and his narrow nose, upturned lips, and long eyelashes all made his face aesthetically pleasing. He wore a red suit, and Kaneki thought that if it wasn’t for the awkward pattern on said suit he would’ve come off as quite the fashionista. All in all, the man in front of Kaneki had to be a model.

The man, lips parted, brows furrowed, and hands shaking, attempted to compose himself. He cleared his throat, and in a voice that was both hoarse and soothing, quietly said, “Is that so? Merveilleuse, what a tale.”

“How can I help you--”

“Here,” the man said as he shoved a handkerchief over to the boy, “It’ll help stop the bleeding better than those tissues will.”

“Are you sure?” Kaneki asked, admiring the fine embroidery and the soft material.

“Yes, of course. I’ll just have to pick up the handkerchief tomorrow,” he said with a small smile. Kaneki smiled back.

“Thanks so much.”

“I’ll be taking my leave, then,” he said, and Kaneki asked him if he needed anything before he left.

“Non. I’m...fine….”

The bell rang as the man left.

 

Tsukiyama hammered away at the door, and a boy with white hair swung it open angrily. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, a replica of the florist the man just had an encounter with.

“Kaneki….do you have a brother? You mustn’t lie to me,” Tsukiyama said. He appeared uncharacteristically disheveled, and his voice was low and held a sense of urgency to it.

“Of course not. Why? What happened?” the white-haired Kaneki asked, his voice mimicking the urgency of Tsukiyama’s.

“A flower shop called Hanakotoba. You---” he started, taking in deep breaths and placing a hand over his beating heart, “The you with black hair works there. He has a black eye like the one you received from the fight yesterday, and he looks exactly like you, Kaneki.”

“I...is this some kind of joke?” Kaneki asked, running a hand through his pale hair and cracking his knuckles one by one. He got to four before Tsukiyama whispered a loud “Non.”

“He even smells like you. I lent him my handkerchief, so I can visit him tomorrow without seeming suspicious. I don’t know what’s going on here, Kaneki.”

The white-haired boy’s face looked grave.

“I...don’t know what to say…”

“Save your words for tomorrow; you’ll need them.”

As the white-haired boy closed the door and returned to the apartment he shared with Banjou and Hinami, he managed to sit down on a stool, thoughts racing through his mind and confusion rendering him dumbstruck. One name, however, stuck: bouncing around the walls of his brain, taunting him.

_Doctor Kanou._


	2. 12/12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaneki meets a mysterious man who calls himself Ken, and is formally introduced to the purple-haired man from before: Tsukiyama. Meanwhile, Tatara and Kanou converse in the latter's lab.

The white-haired boy didn’t get to sleep that night, and, for the first time in a while, it wasn’t because he was dreaming up new ways for the now deceased Yamori to torture him.

In some flower shop called Hanakotoba, there was another Kaneki Ken, a black-haired boy whose timeline seemed to be divergent from his own. That’s what he would’ve believed, at least, before dealing with the monstrosities Dr. Kanou could create. This, too, is probably Kanou’s doing, Kaneki thought as he counted the braille-like bumps on his bedroom ceiling. He shifted towards the left and checked the clock on his nightstand. It read 6:00AM in bright red letters. Kaneki sighed. He would be getting no sleep tonight.

But then again, it was nothing he wasn’t used to.

 

Kaneki Ken woke up at eight in the morning, took a shower, made himself breakfast and ate while reading, dressed himself, arrived at the shop at nine. He ran a pale hand through his black hair as he sleepily made his way to the front door, flipping the sign so that “OPEN” was facing the street. With a sigh he trudged over to the various potted plants around the rather small shop area and, after grabbing a small plastic cup of tap, watering them.

Kaneki heard his phone buzz and checked it as he returned to the counter. Leaning his face on one hand, he read the text message with a frown. His coworkers wouldn’t be coming in today for reasons unspecified. They probably went out drinking, he thought. He’d have to hold down the store. Nothing he wasn’t used to.

Fortunately, the day was a slow one; customers usually didn’t pile in on Mondays. The last time it was this empty was on the eighteenth of last month, the boy thought with a sigh. Kaneki waited dutifully at the counter; he had finished all the bouquets he needed to for the day, and the work day itself was almost over, though he was waiting for one person in particular. He glanced at the now stark white handkerchief folded neatly beside him. The man with purple hair. He said he’d be back to pick up the handkerchief.

It was a couple of hours later that Kaneki’s eyes shot up when he heard the bell above the door ring. A customer. Maybe the fifth customer of the unusually slow day. His eyes were met with kind lilac ones.

“Hello, monsieur,” the man with purple hair said.

“Oh, hi,” Kaneki beamed, “Thanks for letting me use your handkerchief. It’s right here!” He gently picked it up and handed it over to the man from yesterday, who was now wearing a more casual outfit. It was gaudy nonetheless.

Behind the man with purple hair was a lean man wearing a hoodie and black shorts with what appeared to be leggings underneath them. Though he was shorter, he seemed to loom over the other.

“Um, excuse me,” Kaneki said as he moved his head to the side so he could speak with the hooded man, “May I help you with something?”

“He’s with me. I apologize for the inconvenience, monsieur, but I was around the area with my friend when I realized I was to pick up the handkerchief I left here,” the man with purple hair explained rapidly. “My name is Tsukiyama Shuu. Tsukiyama is fine. And you are…?”

Tsukiyama stuck out a hand gracefully. Kaneki took it with a small blush and muttered, “I’m K-Kaneki Ken. You can just call me Kaneki.”

Tsukiyama’s eyes widened, and his grip on the other’s hand faltered, but he smiled widely, rebounding rather quickly.

“Tout le plaisir était pour moi.”

An awkward silence rung throughout the shop. Kaneki slowly removed his hand from Tsukiyama’s, and the man in the hoodie strolled towards the two. His hand thrust into his pockets, he murmured something. Kaneki couldn’t hear what he said, and so he leaned forwards and asked him to repeat himself.

“Ken.”

A voice echoed throughout the small shop and Tsukiyama seemed surprise that his friend had spoken in such a commanding tone.

“You can call me Ken,” the other said.

“O-oh! Your name is Ken too?” Kaneki said, fidgeting in the wooden stool behind the counter.

“Yes,” the white-haired man responded, removing his hood, “My name is Ken too.”

Over Ken’s face was a hideous mask; it was white and blank save for two eyes and an uncomfortably large mouth. The two eyes consisted of a thick black cross and an outline of a heart, and the mouth was twisted into a sneer. Kaneki’s eyes widened and he subconsciously gripped his hands together.

“Why are you wearing a mask?” the boy asked, and Ken drew closer to him.

“I don’t like my face, that’s why. Don’t look so afraid,” Ken explained, and his hand reached towards Kaneki’s face. “Don’t move.”

Kaneki, with a thoroughly confused expression on his face, stayed still as Ken brushed his fingers against his reflection’s porcelain skin.

“Not a dream, huh?” Ken laughed as he shook his head, “I’m sorry for acting so strange. There’s just...something that’s been bothering me. Nice to meet you.”

Kaneki gazed at the place where Ken’s eyes would be should he not have been wearing a mask. For some strange reason...he’s so….enchanting?

Tsukiyama finally pocketed the handkerchief, interrupting the two: “Excusez-moi, but we really must be off, yes, Ken?”

“Ah, that’s true. We’ll be back, Kaneki. Thanks.”

With a nod in Kaneki’s direction, Tsukiyama and Ken were off, and Kaneki was left, mouth slightly agape, in shock at the strange pair.

 

Somewhere in the depths of an abandoned facility was a labyrinth of complex machinery; an organism of wires and tubing and cogs and gears. This was the lab of a certain unethical doctor, who was currently standing in front of his most prized creation, a purple haired woman whose limbs were attached to various machinery.

“Kanou, how’s subject 19?”

Kanou’s thoughts were interrupted as he turned towards the man with white hair, piercing red eyes, and a half-mask.

“Excellent, as a matter of fact.”

The doctor paced around the man in the mask, his hands placed behind his back and his stark white lab coat fluttering slightly as one foot was placed in front of the other.

“He’s met subject 18.”

“Oh?” the other cocked an eyebrow, “He met the original?”

“Yes. Unfortunately,” Kanou began, but he then stopped, a small smile on his lips, “or fortunately, depending on how you want to look at it, Tatara, 18’s face has not yet been revealed.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way,” the man named Tatara said, eyes narrowing.

Kanou let out a loud laugh and moved towards the purple-haired woman’s chamber, fingers gently stroking the pane of glass separating her from them.

“Of course,” Kanou murmured, seemingly entranced by something or another, before his eyes snapped back towards Tatara’s and he stated, rather bluntly, “I want to end subject 19. If his abilities were to be as potent as 18’s, there would’ve been some sort of sign by now. Inability to digest human food, lower back pains, the works. Nothing of the sort has been revealed, and it’s risky to have two identicals running around.”

“If we were to create two one-eyed ghouls, we could create an army of them. This could benefit both Aogiri and you, doctor. Keep that in mind as you think about ending subject 19.”

After an awkward silence marked by a sigh from Kanou and the ambience of the machinery, Tatara murmured, “Maybe he needs...a push.”

“A push?” Kanou asked, hand on his chin.

“Yes: someone or something that’ll jumpstart his ghoul abilities. If he has any, that is. If, after this small experiment, 19 shows no sign of being a ghoul, you can end him,” Tatara explained with a smirk hidden underneath his mask.

“Ah, excellent idea,” Kanou smiled warmly as he turned back to meet the woman in the chamber’s bowed head. “I think I know just how to go about this.”

On the side of the chamber was a series of levers, which the doctor adjusted. A shroud of haze and smoke filled the chamber, and the woman’s limbs were unhooked from the machinery. Burgundy raced down her arms and legs, and, like a newborn calf, she attempted to steady herself before falling to the chamber floor again. She raised her head.

Her eyes, a tango of red and black, slowly met Kanou’s.

“Good morning, Rize.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I am currently working on something else as well, a Hide/Kaneki fic. Please look forward to it! 
> 
> Also, thank you so much for all the comments and kudos! They are all very much appreciated!


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